Mrs. Lenoir started to her feet, and ringing the bell, gave a whispered instruction to the maid who answered it. In a few moments Lizzie and Charlie entered the room. They were the persons who came third-class from London, by the same train which conveyed Mrs. Lenoir and the Duchess to Sevenoaks; with some vague idea that she might need Charlie's testimony, Mrs. Lenoir had begged Lizzie to ask him to come. "Lizzie," said Mrs. Lenoir, "will you tell this young lady what you know of me?" "I know nothing but good, Mrs. Lenoir," replied Lizzie, taking her hand, and kissing it; "there isn't a man or woman in our neighbourhood who hasn't a kind word for you." "My dear," said Mrs. Lenoir, addressing the Duchess, "this is a girl who lives in the same house as I do, and who has known me for years. What is the matter with you, Lizzie?" For the girl was gazing at the Duchess with a look of wild admiration and interest. "I beg your pardon," said Lizzie, "but is the young lady your daughter that you spoke to me of last night----" Lizzie was stopped in her speech by a sob from Mrs. Lenoir, who hid her face in her hands, and turned from them, hearing as she turned, a whisper from the Duchess: "What does she mean? Your daughter! Oh, my God! Let me look at you again." But Mrs. Lenoir kept her face hidden from the girl, and said, with broken sobs: "Let me have my way a little, my dear. I will speak more plainly presently, when we are alone. Give me your hand----" She held the pretty fingers which the Duchess gave her, with a clinging loving pressure which caused the girl's heart to thrill with hope and fear. "Hear what Lizzie has to say first. Lizzie, you were in my room this morning when a gentleman called to see me?" "Yes, Mrs. Lenoir." "You heard him inquiring for me?" "Yes." "Did he give any name?" "After he left, I heard that he called himself Mr. Temple." While these words were spoken, Mrs. Lenoir, finding herself unable to stand, sank into a chair, and the Duchess, sinking to her knees, hid her face in her lap, holding Mrs. Lenoir's hand. "Describe the man, Lizzie," said Mrs. Lenoir. Lizzie did so in a graphic manner; the portrait she presented was truthful and unmistakable. Every word that was being uttered was carrying conviction to the Duchess's soul. "When he left the house," said Mrs. Lenoir, "Charlie and you--Charlie and Lizzie are engaged, my dear, and will soon be married,"--this to the Duchess--"Charlie and you were in the passage, and he passed you." "Yes." "Charlie, you saw his face?" "I did, ma'am." "And recognised it?" "As sure as anything's sure, though a good many years have gone by since I saw it last." "Was his name Temple?" "Not by a long way." "Tell me his name again, Charlie." "Ned Chester his name was, and is," added Charlie positively. At the mention of the name a shudder passed through the Duchess's frame. "What character did he bear when you knew him?"